Part 21

(Timon) “A fairy, sleeping, Tad.”

(Leta) “Ah, sire, but I did dream the dark o’ yesterday away. And, mother, she doth strain unto the sun! I see her eyes be-glistened. See, the frost-cart dumped beside our door, and look ye! he, the Frost man, put a cap upon the chimney pot. I’ll fetch a brush and fan away his cloak. My Christ-gift, it would be my Tina’s smile. She did know me not at late o’ night; think ye it were the dark? Stay, sire! I’ll cast the straw and put the sheep aright!” (Exit.)

* * * * *

(Timon) “My Leta, come! Thy Christ-gift bideth o’er our Tina’s lips and she doth coo!”

(Leta) “Timon, call aloud, that she heareth thee. Leta! Leta! Little one! Dost hear thy sire to call? Why, what’s amiss with thee? Thy staring eyes, my child! Speak thou!”

(Leta) “Sh-e-e-e! Sire, His mother’s come! And, ah, my heart! All white she be an’ crushed unto her breast a holly bough, and one white arm doth circle o’er a lamb! See, sire, the snow did drift it thro’ and weave a fairy robe to cover her.”

(Timon) “Who leaveth by the door; a stranger?”

(Leta) “Nay, He bideth here.”

(Timon) “The Lady Marye, on my soul! Leta, drop ye here thy tears, for madness bideth loosed upon the earth! And shouldst——”

(Leta) “Nay, sire! Who cometh there?”

* * * * *

And searchers there did find the Lady Marye, dead, amid the lambs and snow—a flowering o’ the rose upon a bush o’ thorn.

And hark ye! At the time when winter’s blast doth sound, thee’lt hear the wailing o’ the Lady Marye’s pipes, and know the Stranger bideth o’er the earth.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two dramatic stories presented here were but a paving of the way for larger work. “The Stranger” had been hardly completed when Patience announced, “Thee’lt sorry at the task I set thee next.” And then she began the construction of a drama that in its delivery consumed the time of the sittings for several weeks, and it contained when finished some 20,000 words. It is divided into six acts, each with a descriptive prologue, and three of the acts have two scenes each, making nine scenes in all. It, like the two shorter sketches, is medieval in scene, and the pictures which it presents of the customs and costumes and manners of the thirteenth or fourteenth century (the period is not definitely indicated) are amazingly vivid. It has a somewhat intricate plot, which is carried forward rapidly and its strands skillfully interwoven until the nature of the fabric is revealed in the sixth act. This play is much more skillfully constructed in respect of stage technique than the two playlets that preceded it, and it could, no doubt, be produced upon the stage with perhaps a little alteration to adapt it to modern conditions. Some idea of its beauty, its sprightliness and its humor may be obtained from the prologue to the first act, which follows:

Wet earth, fresh trod.

Highway cut to wrinkles with cart wheels born in with o’erloading. A flank o’ daisy flowers and stones rolled o’er in blanketing o’ moss. Brown o’ young oak-leaves shows soft amid the green. Adown a steep unto the vale, hedged in by flowering fruit and threaded through with streaming silver o’ the brook, where rushes shiver like to swishing o’ a lady’s silk.

Moss-lipped log doth case the spring who mothereth the brook, and ivy hath climbed it o’er the trunk and leafless branch o’ yonder birch, till she doth stand bedecked as for a folly dance.

Rat-a-tat! Rat-a-tat! Rat-a-tat! Sh-h-h-h!

From out the thick where hides the logged and mud-smeared shack.

Rat-a-tat! Rat-a-tat! Sh-h-h-h! And hark ye, to the tanner’s song!

Up, up, up! and down, down, down! A hammer to smite And a hand to pound! A maid to court, And a swain to woo, A heiffer felled And I build a shoe! A souse anew in yonder vat, And I’ll buy my lady A feathered hat!

The play then begins with the tanner and his apprentice, and the action soon leads to the royal castle, where the exquisite love story is developed, without a love scene. There is no tragedy in the story. It is all sentiment, and humor. And it is filled with poetry. Consider, for example, this description of Easter morn, from the prologue to the sixth act:

The earth did wake with boughs aburst. A deadened apple twig doth blush at casting Winter’s furry coat, to find her naked blooms abath in sun. The feathered hosts, atuned, do carol, “He hath risen!” E’en the crow with envy trieth melody and soundeth as a brass; and listening, loveth much his song. Young grasses send sweet-scented damp through the hours of risen day. The bell, atoll, doth bid the village hence. E’en path atraced through velvet fields hath flowered with fringing bloom and jeweled drops, atempting tarriers. The sweet o’ sleep doth grace each venturing face. The kine stand knee depth within the silly-tittered brook, or deep in bog awallow. Soft breath ascent and lazy-eyed, they wait them for the stripping-maid.

The play is permeated with rich humor, and to illustrate this I give a bit of the dialogue between Dougal, the page, and Anne, the castle cook. To appreciate it one must know a little of the story. The hand of the Princess Ermaline is sought by Prince Charlie, a doddering old rake, whom she detests, but whom for reasons of state she may be compelled to accept. However, she vows she will not speak while he is at court, nor does she utter a word, in the play, until the end of the last act. She has fallen in love with a troubadour, who has come from no one knows where, but who by his grace and his wit and his intelligence has made himself a favorite with all the castle folk. Anne has a roast on the spit, and is scouring a pot with sand and rushes, when Dougal enters the kitchen.

Dougal.—“Anne, goody girl, leave me but suck a bone. My sides have withered and fallen in, in truth.”

Anne.—“Get ye, Dougal! Thy footprints do show them in grease like to the Queen’s seal upon my floor!”

Dougal.—“The princess hath bidden me to stay within her call, but she doth drouse, adrunk on love-lilt o’ the troubadour, and Prince of Fools (Prince Charlie) hath gone long since to beauty sleep. He tied unto his poster a posey wreath, and brushed in scented oils his beauteous locks, and sung a lay to Ermaline, and kissed a scullery wench afore he slept.”